Long-distance relay race tests different strengths for runners: Stretching Out

Zachary Lewis, The Plain DealerThe first wave of runners in the 2012 Palmetto 200 takes off at a speedway outside Columbia, S.C. A representative from team Six Pack, Betsy Wallace, is visible at the rear, wearing a white hat.

CHARLESTON, S.C. -- Most of the races I do are solo efforts. They consist of me trying to better my time over some distance. If I happen to make a friend or help someone out, that's great, but it's certainly not the point.

Which is probably why I enjoyed the Palmetto 200 so thoroughly. For once, in my first relay race, it wasn't all about me. It was about reaching a goal together and sharing in both the pain and the glory.

The nature of the physical effort was also totally different. Where I'm used to expending all my energy over a single run, this race -- a 200-mile expedition from Columbia to Charleston, S.C., -- had me starting and stopping six times over the course of 27 increasingly grueling hours.

I have only my brother-in-law, Tim Limbert, to blame, and to thank. It was he, an avid runner and resident of Charleston, who talked me into this nutty adventure. He who corralled and captained our "ultra" team of six, including his friends Betsy Wallace, Kevin Bush and Jeff and Kara Skahill. We dubbed ourselves the Six Pack.

Stretching Out

Zachary Lewis

WHAT NEXT?Have a suggestion for an activity you think I should try? Call me at 216-999-4632 or send me an e-mail.

It was also he who did most of the advance work. Without Tim, we wouldn't have had a game plan or had any of the small but significant luxuries we enjoyed along the way: hot food, beds and a makeshift shower. Instead of basking in our fourth-place ranking, we'd be lying in ditches along the road, stinking to high heaven and still sporting headlamps, blinkers and reflective vests.

Much of the race, you see, took place in the dark. Ten swift hours after our 10 a.m. start, we were shrouded in total blackness, left to navigate winding country roads protected only by our wits and tiny lights. Thankfully, the route was generally well marked.

I, for one, happened to enjoy those nighttime runs. Between the cooler temperatures and total seclusion, I found running at night almost blissful. Never mind the occasional leap into tall grass to avoid an oncoming truck. Others found this whole part of the experience terrifying.

Waiting in the dark was fun, too. Every few minutes, runners would appear out of nowhere, like miners out of a pit, identifiable only by their stride or perhaps the pattern of lights on their blinkers. It was strangely bonding, waiting for your person to arrive, hoping they were OK out there on the road.

Unlike conventional relay races, such as those associated with marathons, each participant in this long-distance event ran several times. In our case, with an "ultra" team, each runner handled six legs apiece totaling 25 to 39 miles.

Some legs were as short as two miles. Others were nine or 10. After completing a stage, each runner then had the duration of five other stages to rest -- anything from two to five hours -- before it was his or her turn again.

But rest didn't necessarily mean sleep. Not for me, at least. I can't sleep anywhere I can't fully recline.

View full sizeOne of the larger teams in the Palmetto 200 crosses the finish lines in a display of the solidarity that makes relay racing so much fun.

What's more, there was usually work to do. Two people always had to drive our vehicles to the next exchange point, while a third always had to be ready on deck. Only the remaining two were left to eke out some shut-eye on the cots we'd installed in our vans. All told, I may have dozed one hour in 27.

The system worked smoothly, for the most part. Once, though, early in the race, we lingered too long at a rest stop and failed to arrive at the next exchange point in time to meet our runner, who was forced to keep going after 10 miles in the blazing sun. (He wasn't happy.) After that, we forced ourselves to drive, then rest.

You're probably wondering what and when we ate. The answers: Everything, and whenever possible. We'd stocked our vans with every manner of snack and drink, but we also hit up restaurants along the way, including a barbecue joint for dinner and a Chick-Fil-A for breakfast.

It was comfort food of the highest order. I can't even tell you how good chicken and biscuits tasted after 170 miles and 22 hours.

View full sizeSix Pack member Kevin Bush takes a well-deserved shower after finishing a 10-mile run in the heat only to find his teammates hadn't yet arrived at the exchange point.

The exercise from all this was intense. I ran 39 miles, the most of anyone on our team. But it wasn't the distance that got to me so much as convincing my body again and again to move after stopping.

The pressure, in other words, wasn't to run fast, but to recover fast. Stretching, massaging and resting thus became critical, more so than any other point in my racing life.

Never will I forget the 7.5 miles I banged out from 5 to 6 a.m., 20 hours into the race, when my legs, already stretched several times, felt like bricks, and my brain was screaming for sleep. Neither will I forget the sheer terror I felt on that run from going several miles without seeing any signs, fearing I'd taken a wrong turn and would have to retrace my already profoundly heavy steps.

Of course, this was also the leg on which I most enjoyed the scenery. Just as the sun was peeking above the horizon, I crossed a bridge over a misty swamp, and the sight took away what little breath I had left. Shortly thereafter, too, our final runner neared the finish, and we jogged with him across the line to complete our journey in triumph.

View full sizeThis makeshift cot in the back of a minivan was the spot where three members of team Six Pack took turns sleeping throughout the night during the Palmetto 200 relay race.

South Carolina may seem a long way to travel for a race, especially when there are relay options closer to home. But between the beautiful setting and family connection, this was one invitation I just couldn't turn down.

Besides, I had a hunch both the journey there, and the journey itself, would prove worthwhile, and I was right. Racing with others really is a whole different ballgame, and now it's one I plan to keep playing.